


The Lion Will Not Sleep Tonight

by The_Colonel



Series: The Circus Freaks [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Calm Down Erik, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik has Feelings, Erik is Scarred. Literally, Lion Erik, Lion tamer Charles, M/M, Not Beta Read, Protective Wolverine, Pseudo-History, Slow Burn, Wolverine Is a Proud Momma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Colonel/pseuds/The_Colonel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is a (were)lion hell bent on revenge, Charles is a friendly lion tamer who just wants to help.<br/>Need I say more?<br/>Oh yes, there will be porn in later chapters. Beware. There be monsters. (sic inside Erik´s trousers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Leap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything that closely pertains to the X-Men universe as created by the fabulously talented people at Marvel and elsewhere. Obviously, a certain Mr. Bryan Singer has to be given due credit for the movies that sparked this and so many other fics.  
> All the typos, all the cultural and historical inaccuracies, and all the bullshit is mine.  
> Also note that English is not my first language, therefore... well... I´m just trying to do my best, aren´t I? :)  
> Any chance of a free, unbonded Beta Reader/ Editor stepping up to do the dirty work?  
> Pretty please?

Erik slowly, carefully prowled forward, almost dragging his belly on the dusty ground. He was only few meters away. Only few more meters to cover, and then he could launch himself from the cover of the thorny bushes, knock Shaw to the ground and rip his throat open before any of his henchmen could so much as blink.

That, at least, was the plan. But practice seldom followed the prettily paved roads of theory.

Shaw was apparently done speaking to the owner of the brothel, turned on his heel without warning, crossed the short distance of the pier with a few long strides and disappeared into the cabin of his steamboat.

Erik growled in frustration, forgot all about his stealthy tactics and broke into a run.

The steamboat had already pushed itself off into the strong current of the river, the paddles of its great wheel slapping the surface of the water furiously, but Erik didn´t even slow down. He paced the pier, jumped into the air and landed in the river. His feline body did not greatly relish the way in which the wet and the cold almost immediately penetrated his sandy coloured coat and clung to his hide like a huge, oppressive blanket, but this only seemed to spur Erik on. He swam with great strokes of his large paws, his muzzle wrinkled in disgust and utter hatred.

The boat was too fast. Erik was neither so stupid nor so overcome by his hunting instincts in order not to acknowledge the fact. He slowed down, stopped in the middle of the river, willed his mind to concentrate and _pulled_.

The steamboat gave a mighty jerk and stopped in its tracks, the large wheel still revolving, but not really propelling the vessel any further.

Erik gave a yelp of satisfaction, mentally caught hold of every metallic surface on the boat that he could reach and tried pulling harder. The steamboat jerked again and started moving in reverse, slowly, metre by painful metre, but steadily. Three men appeared on the deck, cursing and brandishing rifles. Gunshot cracks were heard, but Erik easily deflected the bullets with an inward laugh. _Such a waste of material!_

Waste of material or not, the rifle shots provided a moment of distraction, the steamboat´s wheel once more bit the surface of the water hard and this time it was Erik who felt himself being dragged in the wake of the boat.

The boat was heavy, and Erik was tired. So very tired.

Still he clung on in a desperate hope that he would be able to regain his footing once more, and at long last catch up with the man that tore his family to pieces. And then, preferably, tear into pieces him, Sebastian Shaw, the root of all evil (as far as Erik was concerned).

The boat pushed on, and Erik´s concentration began to slip, his strength fail. He felt that he was being dragged under water, and found that he could not, he would not do anything about it. Maybe it was better to just let oblivion take him over. Maybe Erik´s  little revenge plan did not really matter in the grand course of history. Maybe it was time to go to sleep.

_Don´t you even dare to try and breathe underwater!_

Erik felt a pressure, a beginning of a dull ache at the back of his skull, his paws flailing helplessly in panic.

 _Let go of him, Erik_. There was that voice in his mind again. _At least for now. Please._

Erik briefly resurfaced, roared in frustration and pulled with all his power for one last desperate moment. The metal sang in his head, but refused to obey, and Erik sank limply back beneath the river waves.

For a moment there was only darkness, and then he felt that alien mind wrap itself around him again, just as he felt two arms clinging to the mane that grew around his shoulders.

_Please, brother dear, do not give up on yourself like this. Come with me. Come and you won´t be alone again, I promise._

_I have been alone for as long as I can remember_ , Erik thought dimly. _I am not afraid of that._

_Then what are you afraid of?_

Erik kicked with his hind legs and resurfaced. A man was clinging to his back, at least judging by his weight and by the shape of his body underneath his wet clothes. Shaw´s steamboat was nothing but a rapidly disappearing shadow.

“Come with me,” said the man, using his vocal chords this time. He had a quiet, calm, determined voice.

Erik coughed out a little of dirty river water and began swimming towards the bank. _I don´t even know why I´m doing this_ , he thought, half dazed, half resigned.

The man let go of Erik at last, and was now swimming by his side. “You don´t have to know the **why** , Mr. Lion. Many things just happen without an apparent cause. That is the way of the world, I guess.”

Erik growled something nasty in lion-tongue, but kept on paddling.

When they reached the shore and scrambled up the muddy bank, they lay in the tall grass for a while. The man at last reached out his hand and patted Erik on the back. “Come, dinner is waiting.”

Erik lifted his head up wearily. _What kind of a person are you, inviting strange beasts into your home in the middle of the night? Aren´t you at least a little bit afraid of me?_

“I have complete and utter faith in you,” the man said with a smile that lit up something bright and beautiful in the depths of his blue eyes. “And besides, I could turn your brain into jelly before you could even think of extending those impressive claws of yours, so….”

 _Show-off_ , Erik thought, amused in spite of himself, and followed the man into the night. **  
**


	2. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is not a proper lion. What a letdown!  
> Or is it?

The hike went largely in silence, interrupted only by Charles´ inquiries - for that was apparently the man´s name, Charles Xavier of the notoriously wealthy Xavier family - as to Erik´s comfort or lack thereof. The only question that the lion had had, the only one that he permitted to travel lightly between his mind and that of his rescuer (should he choose to honour Charles with such a title), was _How could you possibly know where I was, and what I was about to do?_

“Please. You grossly underestimate my abilities,” Charles smiled, his eyes never leaving the ground beneath his shoes. “You were thinking so loud that you practically screamed it for any half-decent telepath in the radius of five miles to hear.”

Erik hummed underneath his breath, but did not pursue the matter any further.

The Xavier mansion lay on a vast, largely uncultivated expanse of land, its walls of grey, stark stone rising royally above the crowns of the old oak and beech trees that surrounded it like an ever-watchful guard of honour.

Xavier apparently had a penchant for dramatic entrances. Instead of leading his new-found companion inside through a side door, he chose a large french window that opened into the main dining room. The people seated around a table made of dark, expensive wood froze, their eyes widening, their jaws slack with astonishment, a veritable rendering of a classical “there´s-a-stranger-in-our-midst” tableau.

For a brief moment there is complete stillness, interrupted only by the sound of water, drip, drip, dripping from Erik´s drenched mane onto the carpet. Then a large, hairy, heavy-shouldered man in a chequered shirt gets up, angry, and points an accusing finger at the duo. “The hell, Charles? Where the fuck did you find that dirty thing?”

Erik wanted to bristle at the insult, but Charles patted a light hand on his shoulder and smiled that beatific smile of his. “It´s alright, Logan. He´s okay. I wouldn´t bring home anyone dangerous, you do know that.”

“Do I, Charles?”

“Dear Lord, Logan, you´re always like this when Charles brings someone new. Every single time!” a dark haired, dark eyed woman said, folded her napkin and sighed. Her voice was tired and pragmatic. “Just calm down. They´re wet and cold, and probably hungry. Let them go and dry off and have a bite of dinner. Before they ruin the carpet, at least. You can stage your little interrogation show later, Wolfie.”

Logan only scowled at that, and the eyes of the other diners - some of them barely out of their teens, one of them a mere child - wandered back and forth between him, the woman and Charles. Logan clenched his hands into tight fists and there was a flicker of something sharp and metallic around his knuckles. “Well, he don´t seem much okay to me, and that´s a fact. I´d go as far as to say that he´s one mean son of a gun, but maybe that´s just me and my own warped point of view.”

A skinny, red haired boy laughed at Logan´s old fashioned curse and just like that, the tension slowly melted into wary curiosity on both sides.

“We´ll be back in a jiffy,” Charles said happily and led Erik towards a paneled door. “Should Erik need clothing, I´ll lend him some of yours Logan, if you don´t mind.”

Logan growled, but said nothing and sat resignedly back to his cooling meal.

Passing the table, Erik heard the smallest girl say quietly, hopefully: “Mon-mon?”

The brunette woman whispered to her quickly: “No, Kitty, that´s not Mon-mon. I don´t even think that this is a proper lion.”

“Oh geez,” the child pouted.

Once in Charles´ room (though a _chamber_ or a _suite_ would be words closer to reality), the telepath directed the lion to the doors leading to a large bathroom. “Can you… Will you change?”

Erik nodded, but then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the sight of a sizeable bathtub standing in the room on clawed feet.

“Good. Have a bath, I´ll go get the clothes.”

 _No bath_ , said the lion with a shudder. _Once was enough for today._

“A shower, then. You reek of stale water, my friend. We both do,” Charles replied with a wink and left Erik to it.

It took a bit of self-coaxing to change into his human, much more vulnerable form, but Erik managed it in the end. He staggered at first (getting used to having two legs instead of four again would take some time), but Erik was stubborn and his wobbly feet had no choice but to obey his iron will.

The water was hot and calming as he stood underneath the spray of the shower, the weariness he felt earlier once again creeping upon him like a heavy veil of sea fog. He felt thin, worn, more than a little rough around the edges. His head was stuffed with wool, his belly was full of lead. Maybe he could lie down here for a while, just close his eyes and…

There was a knock on the door. “Everything alright there?”

Erik turned the shower off without touching the taps, wrapped a towel around his narrow hips and left the bathroom.

Charles had carefully laid out the clothes he brought on the bed. He glanced at Erik and nodded. “Yes, these should fit you just fine.”

Erik was tall, rather wiry, all lean muscle and sinewy strength coiled underneath his skin. He moved as though he were dancing, fluid and more in control now, a jungle cat displaying its virility to potential rivals and enemies. He pulled the towel off his hips and started drying himself off with swift, methodical movements. “Thank you, Charles. The shower is all yours.” He had a pleasant, rich baritone, with only a hint of some foreign twang lurking beneath his mostly neutral accent.

Charles nodded again, went to the bathroom, but turned around in the doorway, an apropos question on his lips. Erik had his back turned toward him now. His otherwise smooth skin - from neck to lower back - was decorated with haphazard, yet intricate imprints of violence, patterns upon patterns of old, milky, barely visible scars.  Charles stared for a few moments, unable to peel his eyes away from all that hurt, from all those ghosts of injuries haunting Erik´s skin, but then did so and quietly closed the door behind him.

He tried his best to quench the feelings of immense pity, and of profound disturbance, that were washing through him. He had an inkling that Erik was the sort of man that would actually get very angry indeed with anyone who tried to pity him.

Charles took of his clothes and settled for being quietly sympathetic towards the proud, broken beast that sauntered into his life today (that, at least, he knew how to do; sympathy towards anyone in need was an inseparable part of Charles´ personality since he was a small boy, ingrained so deep within his bones and his blood you could not cut it out of him with a scalpel, nor flail it out of him with a whip) stepped into the shower and sighed thankfully as the scalding water hit his cool flesh.

He sensed the faint, sleepy hum of Erik´s thoughts from the bedroom, but there were no words in it, only a general feeling of warmth and of something approximating comfort. And a sharp pang of hunger underlying it all.

Charles, already flushed pink underneath the water, blushed even harder and sent a quick thought. _Do go downstairs and have some dinner. No need to wait for me, I´ll join you when I´m done._

There was no verbal response, but Charles heard the door leading out of the room and into the corridor open and shut.

Feeling that he was truly alone, only then did Charles permit his thoughts to wander for the briefest of moments back towards the sight of Erik´s unselfconscious nudity, all that lightly tanned skin, so surprisingly smooth for a creature whose second half was an abundantly hairy, shaggy-maned felid.

Charles bashfully marveled at the fact that the thin, light trail of hair leading from Erik´s navel to his groin had the same sandy colour like the hair of the lion.

With a vague sense of arousal he recalled Erik´s penis as being long and thick, even when flaccid. _Wow_. And also _ow_ , at least for the happy recipient of said member.

Charles stopped his thoughts there, right before anything inappropriate had a chance to ensue. Erik was, after all, a guest, Charles´ guest in Charles´ house, a wanderer in need of help.

Charles chose to store the half-formed masturbatory fantasy for later, for when the situation didn´t seem as serious as it did now.

Guilt has always been a powerful turn off button fo Charles´ libido, much to his chagrin. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Lord!  
> I certainly took my sweet time with posting of this rather short and rather unexciting chapter, didn´t I?  
> I hope there is still someone, somewhere, willing to read on. For you, my dear Reader(s), I have utter and unrestrained respect. :)


	3. The Ringmaster

When Charles came downstairs, he found Erik in the dining room in the middle of a conversation with Raven. In the neighbouring room - a kitchen that was separated by a set of sliding doors from the dining area - Logan was to be heard noisily pottering about, muttering to himself, pretending to be doing the dishes.

Raven was Charles´ sister, or as close to one as humanly possible. She came into his house one day - long before Charles began with his charity quest, long before he was an adult, long before he even knew that other people like him existed - with nothing but her blue, scaly skin, her red hair, and her fragile smile. Charles caught her stealing food in the kitchen. She brandished a silver spoon in his direction as if it were a sword. He only laughed at that, made her drop the improvised weapon to the ground and promised her he´d take care of her from now on.

But Raven seldom needed anyone´s protection. Apart from being a gifted shapeshifter and a very dirty fighter, she was also a shrewd judge of human nature, and usually knew a person´s intentions before they even opened their mouth to speak.

Charles was immensely proud of her.

“There you are, Charles. I was just telling Erik about your messiah complex and about your obsession with collecting of all kinds of freaks,” Raven said and patted a chair next to her. She was in her “girl from next door personna”, as Charles liked to call her human form which she assumed when strangers were around, or when she was in public. Whenever she wasn´t comfortable with her blue skin, she would shift into a blonde young girl with inoffensive good looks and unremarkable countenance. “Wanna join the discussion?”

Charles shook his head incredulously, but sat next to her. “Oh, dear, what has she been telling you, Erik?“

Erik smiled a neat, closed-off, professional smile, set down the cutlery as he was apparently done eating, and rested his large hands on the white tablecloth. “Raven merely explained to me the status quo of the House of Charles. Nothing has been fabricated, as far as I can tell.”

“She told you the whole lot? The gifted kids´ orphanage bit? The private school bit? The circus show bit?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Erik leaned back in his chair and took a sip of beer. “A circus show as a cover-up of a school for mutant children without a home? That is rather clever, I must say. Though I cannot quite imagine you taming anything more vicious than an anteater.”

Raven snorted with laughter, kissed Charles on the cheek and with an airy wave of a hand and an “I´ll bring you some grub, Charlie” left the room.

“Oi, careful there! ” Charles said, mock-offended, his eyes pinned on Erik. “I happen to be very proud of my taming skills, thank you very much. I´ll show you the menagerie in the morning, you´ll see. Besides, someone had to don the ringmaster´s hat and...”

“...and you look good in red velvet, I get the picture,” Erik finished for Charles. “You have many wild animals in your possession, then?”

“Oh, none of them are particularly wild anymore, really. All they needed was time enough to heal, a bit of attention and care, some gentle encouragement… Now they´re mostly as docile as little bunny rabbits. Except for the wolverine, of course, which is extremely nasty when cross...”

“I heard that!” Logan shouted from next door.

“Your problem, friend! Didn´t your mama tell you that eavesdropping was rude?” Erik shouted back with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The door slid sideways at that, revealing a frowning Logan. The large man´s furious attitude was undermined by the fact that he was wearing a frilly, housewifish apron over his own clothes. He was apparently going to say something snarky and testosterone-laden, but he was pushed aside by Raven, who had her hands occupied by a tray of food for Charles. “Step aside, sister. This place ain´t big enough for both of our egos.”

“Damn kids,” Logan spat and the door slid shut once again.

“He´s a not a very easy person to live with, is he?” Erik asked quietly.

“Naw,” Charles shook his head dismissively and attacked his platter of roast chicken and veggies with a wolfish enthusiasm. “He´s a caring, warm-hearted guy and he loves the kids… He´s just a little suspicious of you, that´s all.”

“And he doesn´t really _live with Charles_ , if that´s what you were asking,” Raven added helpfully.

Charles started to choke on a piece of carrot and Erik coughed politely, as though to brush the girl´s remark aside.

“What?” Raven rolled her eyes. “Don´t pretend you weren´t interested. I saw you...”

“Raven!” Charles managed to croak warningly out of his sore throat, cheeks red and eyes streaming. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “That´s a very far-fetched inference that you´re making right there, young lady.”

“Well I think that´s bullshit.”

“And I think that you´ve had too much wine.”

The siblings engaged each other in a vicious staring contest after the last sentence, and possibly a heated row was being carried out between their minds. Their silent fury was a tad eerie to watch.

Erik coughed again. “Please, there´s no need for a family discord over such a trifling matter. I was merely curious as to Logan´s character, but if you must know, then yes, I am not a stranger to amorous feelings towards both women as well as men.”

Two sets of large eyes turned towards the lion man, two sets of glossy blue marbles, one pair ultramarine and hopeful, the other pair blue-gray and satisfied, with an air of “I told you so”.

Erik smiled now, a genuine, brittle little smile. His teeth were white, strong, and just a tiny bit too sharp for a regular human. ”I usually do not reveal any kind of personal information after such a short time, but given the dramatic circumstances of our meeting, and given the fact that at least one of us here is a powerful telepath, well… There is no real need for secrecy, is there?”

“Neither is there a need for brashness,” said Charles with a quick flick of his eyes towards Raven, but he too was smiling.

“Well, whatever. I´m tired,” said Raven with a smirk, got up and hugged Charles. “Going sleepy-byes now. You be good, Charlie. And you sleep well, Erik. You look like you need it.”

As soon as she left, Charles hid his face in his hands. “She is SUCH a blatherskite sometimes!”

“I think that she loves you very much,” Erik said, his dreamy sea-green eyes downcast, almost hidden by his heavy eyelids. Then he yawned, sleepily rubbed his face with his palm… and suppressed another yawn. “Mind if you do all the talking, now? Raven was right. I am exhausted.”

“You´d better go to sleep, then. I´ll show you a room...”

“No! No, that is fine. I´d prefer to sit up for a little while longer. I don´t think I could actually fall asleep right now.”

Charles frowned a bit, but then shrugged his shoulders and started talking.

He tried to tell Erik everything that Raven might have omitted. How sometimes the children were brought to him when their parents died, how sometimes they came on their own, apparently on the run from an abusive home, how sometimes he just happened to stumble across them by accident. How the circus thing was Logan´s idea, because the man had a (admittedly long) lifetime of experience with masking of one´s true identity. How some of the children left as they grew of age, how some of them decided to stay and help Charles in his efforts. How he, Moira and Hank were trying to teach the younger children according to a regular school curriculum, trying to teach them as much about the world around them as possible. How the youngsters were sometimes difficult to cope with, and how sometimes they were so unbearably honest and sweet that it could break one´s heart.  

Charles knew that he had a pleasant, melodious speaking voice, so he wasn´t the least surprised that Erik had fallen sound asleep sometime during the long monologue.

The telepath looked at the man´s face, now made younger and more peaceful in his repose, then tried to look at his dreams as well. He did not mean to snoop, he did not mean to trespass. He merely wanted to check whether Erik had nightmares (he knew how to help with that, he knew how to ease a troubled mind). But all that he found was an oppressing, heavy, numb silence where a quiet hum of dream activity should have been. As if Erik´s mind decided to completely shut itself down for the night. Almost as if the man were brain dead.

Charles had never encountered anything like this before, and so, unnerved, in a moment of panic, he shook Erik awake.

The man blinked a few times and slowly, reluctantly opened his eyes. “Wassup?”

Charles breathed out in relief and smiled at Erik. “Nothing. I just thought you´d be more comfortable upstairs. In a bed, you know.”

“Right,” Erik nodded slowly, still stupid with interrupted sleep. “Whichway?”

“Thisway,” Charles imitated Erik´s slurred speech and lead the man upstairs. It was like being followed by a huge cat. Even in his weary, almost drugged state, Erik trod so lightly that  Charles couldn´t hear his footfalls.

“Tyger, tyger, burning bright,” Charles muttered to himself as they approached one of the guest rooms.

“In the forests of the night,” came a soft reply. “But I am hardly a tiger, neither am I… burning. Good night, Charles.”

With that, Erik slipped into the room and shut the doors behind him.

“Sleep tight and don´t let the bedbugs bite, friend,” Charles told the door and went. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raven brandishing her silver spoon was brought to you by “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” by The Beatles.
> 
> Also, “The Tyger” by William Blake is probably one of my favourite poems, so I guess that I´ll cannibalize it some more in the forthcoming chapters. I´ll suck you dry, Will, I promise I will. :)

**Author's Note:**

> No animals were harmed during the writing of the first chapter.


End file.
